A Goal Barely Missed: An Alicia Spinnet FanFiction
by InuLoveKawaii13
Summary: Written for A Sirius Crush On Moony's Minor Character Challenge. Alicia Spinnet remembers when times were simpler. I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER! ALL FAMILIAR ASPECTS BELONG TO J.K. ROWLING!


Written for a challenge on HPFC given by A Sirius Crush On Moony for her Minor Character Challenge, though I am not sure if I _completely_ utilized the entire challenge, but that may just be me. Hope you all like it. If you want a second chapter, just reply and tell me so. I may or may not comply, depending on my mood and time schedule.

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><p>A Goal Barely Missed<p>

Alicia stood in the middle of the pitch, remembering the times just barely five years previously when she would be flying up in the air, making goals the Gryffindor quidditch team depended on her to make. She gave a ghost of a smile as she remembered Oliver Wood, who, in spite of all his rough and proud air gave, was as nervous as a puppy who broke something when he asked her out in third year and remained a good friend from then on, even though she teased him mercilessly about in now. She remembered when Oliver ran skipping over to her and Katie Bell to tell her he found a seeker. She remembered Katie Bell's shriek of surprise and falling into a fit of giggles when Angelina Johnson admitted her crush on George Weasley in the changing room when only the three of them were there, only to be found by poor Harry, who was just beginning to look at girls as possibly interesting. She also remembered the look on Harry's face when he stared at the first snitch he ever caught.

_So much has happened to me in this pitch…_ she thought as she walked over to the stands, climbing up to the spot Lee Jordan confessed his "undying" love for Bethany Carson, who abruptly slapped the jester across the face for his nerve before kissing his for how sweet his confession was – never mind that she promptly and elegantly told him to "f*** off" when he stood her up to drop water balloons on Mrs. Norris and Filch.

Alicia sat down in the seat so often preoccupied by random people. She remembered as she listened to the trees the days that followed that fateful night in her sixth year, when Harry came back screaming He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned, her initial shock and her terrible gut feeling that Harry was right, that everything would be terrible from then on. Her seventh year, with Umbridge, only confirming the truth Harry spoke that day clutching the body of his rival, and, oddly, his companion.

She wished life was simple again as she looked at the goalposts. She wished it was as simple as quidditch had been. Throw a ball through a hoop and call it a day. She wished that Fred was still here to make her laugh at him and his twin's antics. She wished Oliver was still in the changing room, giving them lectures at three hours before dawn in his crazy frenzy to prove to the whole school that Gryffindor _could win_ the quidditch cup. She wished, _oh_ how she wished, that life was simple again, where her mum would come wake her up on September first and drag her to the car. She dreamed of the start of the term feast, of Halloween, of the first Hogsmeade trip of the year.

But none of those times could come back. She stood abruptly and ran down the stairs of the stands, burst into the changing room and into the office Madam Hooch used, collecting a quaffle. She grabbed a school broom, muttering as she kicked off.

"Bloody broom! Why don't they just buy new brooms? These things are dreadful!" She soon ignored the uncooperative broom and imagined the stadium filled with students. She looked on at the hoops and imagined a keeper there, ready to block her. She lurched forward, weaving, as if there were other players in the air, and throwing the quaffle straight through the middle hoop, giving a whoop of delight. She shrieked as she wasn't the only one who whooped. She looked down and donned a look of shock. Landing, she just looked at the young man sheepishly. He smiled.

"Not bad," he said, giving her a look of approval, "though you might want to gain permission before using the school property." Alicia glanced towards the exit.

"I should probably be going," she said. She started to leave but turned at the exit. "What house are you in?" she asked, curious. He was clearly still a student, though she didn't recognize him. He blinked, then smiled.

"Who said I was still in school?" Alicia giggled.

"The robes. Students always wear black. Teacher's like to get away from it, though Professor Snape was different. But then again, he in colors just didn't work."

"I graduated five years ago. I decided to come back as transfiguration professor."

Alicia squinted.

"Then what on earth are you doing on the pitch?" she asked, curious. He thought on that one.

"I don't know. Maybe I am just remembering the good days. The innocent ones," he added. "What are you doing on the pitch, or better yet, here at Hogwarts?" Alicia smiled.

"Remembering the days that I didn't have to worry about more than the outcome of the next quidditch match and the days when things were so simple. Did you play on your house team?"

"Yeah, Ravenclaw chaser. Not much of a player, though, when compared to your Gryffindor team." He smiled before exiting the pitch, leaving Alicia to wonder. _I miss the innocent days._ She slowly followed suit, looking at the castle as she reached the gate. A small smile formed as she thought. _I guess Hogwarts is truly a dream rather than a reality. It is real, but it is also so fairytale-like. It allows you to be a kid before you really have to grow up._ She remembered one quidditch game, rather clearly, and realized that she barely missed the goal. The one goal that she truly tried to make, in her very first game, she missed by mere millimeters. She realized that that goal difined who she was. Her life was riddled with "barely misses" and she knew it. This brought an even bigger smile to her and she giggled.

"I guess we can't all be perfect!" she said aloud, knowing no one but the squirrel next to her heard what she said.

With that in mind, she turned, deciding that she would still visit, if only to reminiscent on the past. It was time for her to grow up and move on. Life moved whether she liked it or not. She shouldn't keep it waiting for her. Even if life gave her all those barely missed scores.


End file.
